A Heart's Storm
by ConsultingDetection
Summary: It's been a good few years since Sherlock and Irene saw each other last in Karachi. And now Irene had decided to make a surprise visit to 221B, and finish their 'dinner' at the fireplace. Post-His Last Vow. Written by me, and my awesome Tumblr friend myscienceofdeduction.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

London stood still in a particularly cold and stormy autumn afternoon. People were rushing home, desperate to be in their isolation of warmth and comfort, like ants rushing to their colonies. The bells tolling 3pm from Big Ben sang through Westminster, as the invisible London cabs drove down the busy roads of the grand city, in silence. Among the crowds of the people, all dressed in plain blacks, whites and greys, carrying their suitcases and designer bags, one stood out. Her red lips exposed and her dark navy fur coat brushing past a shoulder now and then. Her high heels were clattering along the cold pavement, as quickly as they can. With the lack of an umbrella, Irene Adler was fighting against the wind that was rapidly building up. Turning up her fur collar did not do much good, and her balance was being swayed by the wind more and more with every step she took. She was close to her destination, but struggled with every passing second.

Irene sighs in slight annoyance as a storm breaks out, clashes of thunder echoing through London. When she was little, Irene remembered her parents telling her that every time there was a thunder storm, it meant that two dragons were having a fight. A delicate smile was written on her face, as she decided to call for a taxi. Waving her hand at a passing taxi, it stops.

"Where to, darling?" The anonymous driver asks The Woman.

"Baker Street. 221B Baker Street..." was the answer. There was a sense of tiredness in it, as Irene quickly noticed. She was sleepy, hungry and lonely. She hasn't eaten in days, and not slept for a maximum of four days. It has been a rough four years, and after Sherlock Holmes saving her from her execution, her life has taken a drastic turn. The cab made its turns and dodges, as Irene continued to swim through the memories of Sherlock. Still in disbelief of her weakness of falling for him, she smiled to herself. 'How could an apparently homosexual woman fall in love with a man?' The Woman thought to herself. A man with such extraordinary thought, but with such innocence. He being a virgin surprised her, considering him having an attractive biology. But she understood the reasons for that; his obsession with cases allowed no time for sexual thoughts or desires.

Irene steps out carefully out of the taxi, and hands the money to the driver, who eyed her with a degree of desire. She was used to that. But if she got that from Sherlock, she would probably melt like steel. Such an impossible scenario would corrupt her completely. The cabbie thanked her, and drove off. Irene found herself standing opposite the ebony-black door, with the big '221B' nailed on it, along with a knocker. A smirk escaped Irene's lips as she stood there for about three minutes. But there was a hint of something a bit different from just glee in her mind. Her stomach was also turning from anxiety. She has not seen him ever since he was shot, and she assumes that he is aware of the rose she had given him. It was unlikely he took it, but Irene liked to think he did.

Her high heels quietly walked closer to the door, as the rain only started to fall even harder, and the thunder continuing to roar, following with a sudden flash of lightning. The wind again started to build up, nearly blowing Irene off-balance. She had to make the decision of either using the knocker, or doing the 'traditional' climb through the bathroom window leading to Sherlock's bedroom like she did last time, bringing him back his coat she borrowed, and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Well, let's see if you remember the unfinished business. Let's have dinner..."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He groaned in frustration, smashing the Petri dish against the wall. 'What did I miss?!', he shouted desperately when suddenly a faint scent of a blend of sandalwood and patchouli accompanied by fruity notes of fresh citrus, melons and nectarines...no, peaches – obviously!- tickles his nose. A scent he recognized immediately: The Woman's scent! Noticing the clacking of the very familiar stilettos on the bathroom tiles getting louder, he immediately jumped up and rushed to the bathroom pushing the door open. 'Mr. Holmes, let's have dinner', she smiled wickedly.  
'Oh, not you again... Out of my head! I'm busy!' growling in annoyance.  
A moment of silence passed. 'I'm flattered', Irene grinned mischievously.  
Sherlock furrowed his brow, wondering why she didn't vanish from his mind and confused about her statement. '...Sorry?'  
'Oh Sherlock, I'm disappointed, come on, think! Brainy is the new sexy' winking at him.  
Exactly 8 seconds passed until it struck him like lightning: She wasn't in his head, and more importantly he just revealed her that he's thinking about her all the time! Quick, think of something to distract from this!  
Finally he managed to say or rather stutter 'um..You...you're wetting...'  
'I certainly am dear', taking a step towards him.  
He cleared his throat and flatly said '...wetting the floor...you're wetting my floor.'  
Just now she realized that she's completely soaked from the heavy rain outside.

'Well I'm gonna take a hot bath now or I'll catch a cold'  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, sighing 'Do what you want…'.  
She took off her coat and her soaked clothes slowly, almost seductively, but he seemed to be unimpressed.  
'Wanna join me?, she whispered into his ear. He frowned. 'Why would I want to do that?', cocking his head.  
'Well you wanted to do that back then in Karachi so I assumed you want to join me now as well', winking at him.  
After she mentioned Karachi he immediately blushed. 'Dammit Sherlock turn the other way! She will notice that you're blushing!, rushed through his mind and he's trying his best to hide his face but considering the wide grin Irene has spread all over her face, he was obviously not successful. She finally disappeared behind the bathroom door and he let out a relieved sigh.  
Sitting in his chair, wearing his tartan dressing gown, his eyes tightly closed and his fingers resting on his chin, he tried desperately to find a distraction in his mind-palace to calm him down, but the woman is in every room of his palace right now. It annoys him that he can't control his physical reactions, even a fool could see that his pupils were dilated when he saw her and his heart hammered against his chest – was he that obvious? Yes, he was and he might shoot the wall out of frustration! Unfortunately, he can't because bloody Mrs. Hudson 'confiscated' his gun. Apparently it is too 'dangerous' according to her. Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
The creaking of the bathroom door tore him from his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see her emerging from the bathroom.  
'I would be delighted if you would put some clothes on, Miss Adler.', he stood up and passed her his blue dressing gown.  
Putting it on she said huskily: 'Thank you, Mr. Holmes or should I rather say Sherlock? Seems appropriate to me considering our…activities in Karachi.' winking teasingly.  
Oh what a woman! Making the great Sherlock Holmes blush…twice.  
'Call me by whatever name you want but I won't call you Irene if you were hoping for that'

Even though her face features didn't change, her eyes gave her away. He could see a glimpse of pain and hurt in her eyes, but ignored it though.  
Irene sat down on his lap. Sherlock didn't move a muscle, his expression was neutral and yet he was internally panicking, asking himself: 'what is she up to? What should i do?!' then she finally broke the silence: 'heard you let that Janine girl sit on your lap….and you kissed her. You never kissed me…at least not on the lips'  
'You're not the sentimental type'  
'Are you sure?, she ran her left hand over his cheekbones causing him to look down on her hand. Something's on her finger!

An engagement ring?!


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING: SMUT ALERT! That's right, if you wanna avoid some frickle frakle, skip this bad boy ;D This is the first time I've written such lovely smut goodness, so be gentle, pretty pwease. Other than that, enjoy!**

"I see you have...moved on...?" Sherlock asked anxiously.

"Well, to many I have. But there is a more..." she slowly snaked her fingers to Sherlock's suit, slowly undoing the buttons. "Complicated reason..." Irene whispered to his ear.

Sherlock remained motionless, only closing his eyes to try and mask away any signs of pleasure. His stance was that of a statue, desperate to ignore Irene's methods of seduction. He could smell the scent of her perfume, evidently sprayed across her swan-like neck. Her damp hair smelled of his shampoo, and according to his deduction, she washed her hair twice, with a conditioner in the end. Her skin smelled also of the lavender shower gel she also borrowed from Sherlock, filling his nose as he silently inhaled.

Irene continued to undo his suit jacket, while breathing hot air into his ear, clearly showing her need for him. Her left hand slowly slid its way to his neck, stroking it gently, while the other slid the jacket off his shoulders. Sherlock remained unresponsive, though with every passing second, it became more and more difficult. He wanted to make deductions; he wanted to observe her past by her body, her skin, smell, touch.

"Despite your efforts, you're not going to get through me..." Sherlock finally managed to breathe out.

"Oh, but by your gasping breath, I think we both know that's not entirely true..."The Woman replied, with her tongue very delicately feeling his now hot ear. By this point, the detective found it nearly impossible to withstand his emotions. For the second time, his weakness was evident to The Woman. For years and years, he had managed to make himself strong enough to withhold his emotions, but for some reason, Irene Adler always managed to break his unbreakable barriers.

"And how can you prove that?" Sherlock nearly growled. But it wasn't from anger or frustration. It was almost from a sort of twisted pleasure from teasing her, challenging her, taunting her.

And as soon as the last word escaped his mouth, it was taken over brutally by Irene. She did not hesitate, either. She groaned from pleasure, clearly enjoying the feel of his soft lips, as she delicately opened her mouth, hoping he would respond, leaving his statue-like state. She now has both of her hands pulling, tugging at his hair, while she slowly slides herself towards him, ever so more closer, with the blue dressing gown having no friction between it and his suit trousers.

"Oh,Ire-no..." Sherlock unluckily managed to breathe out.

"Oh, don't be afraid, Mr Holmes...say it..."

"Love is a chemical..." Irene started to kiss his neck "def...ect...I can't...I can't do this anymore, Irene...I.." And from that moment, Sherlock only noticed after five seconds that he also had opened his eyes, allowing Irene to use her clever tongue to lick his neck, exploring his taste. He tasted of what felt like tobacco, mint and wine, just like he did back at Karachi. He responded back, with a sharp gasp, enjoying what he is now receiving. Irene slowly started to undo the purple shirt's tight buttons, all with one hand.

'Yes' Irene thought to herself, claiming her victorious round. Looks like Sherlock's a tad bit easier than she thought.

"You seem quite an expert in this..." Sherlock managed to breathe out to her, before returning to the detective's neck.

"Oh, I have much more up my sleeve, dear" Irene's words escaped her lips, finally undoing the last button, revealing Sherlock's pale and smooth chest. She quickly slid off the shirt, and Sherlock gasped a little, as the sudden temperature hit his skin. Her red fingernails stroked the flesh, while still kissing the detective, groaning from the bottom of her throat.

Sherlock was in shock to find his hands no longer on his lap, but rising slowly, to hold Irene's neck, caressing it, while he leant forward and started to inhale every quiver of her scent. Irene hissed in response, arching her head backwards, as Sherlock's hot breath escaping his mouth was being absorbed by her smooth skin, his large hands still holding her neck gently, feeling her heartbeat elevating to an insane speed.

"Sherlock...how long can you last...?" Irene asked, wanting his lips in contact with hers,her desperation for his lips in contact with hers more and more.

"Oh..."She gasped in surprise, as she felt Sherlock's lips turn into a wry smirk, as he started to gently kiss her jaw line, and his lips finally found Miss Adler's mouth, kissing her passionately, exploring her mouth deeply. Irene's hands quickly found his raven curls, entangling her fingers in them, pulling harder with every bite that Sherlock now took of her bottom lip. He bit gently at first, but as Irene pulled his strands, he bit harder, each time.

The Woman eventually started to feel a gentle metallic taste in her mouth, due to him biting so hard; Blood. But especially her being a dominatrix, she didn't mind it at all. She even started to enjoy the pleasant pain, biting him back, and him also eventually drawing crimson blood from his perfectly shaped lips. She has always loved that distinct Cupid's bow on his top lip, gently pulling at it, and biting it.

"So...not so immune to saying my first name now, Mr Holmes, are we...?" Irene cheekily asked the steely-eyed detective, whose eyes initially were of ice, now turned to an inferno of lust and need.

"Positively..." Sherlock lied, being aware that his need to have her all to himself more than ever.

With Irene's patience wearing thin from the layers of clothing on them (well, him anyway), and the intimate position of them on his chair, she started to slowly aim her hands at the zipper of his trousers. But she felt Sherlock's hand grab hers in protest. She knew that despite him being with Janine, according to 'others' that she knows, he is still a virgin. The rain back outside again started to build up, with a possible storm approaching.

"Not here" Sherlock said in demand with his baritone voice. His voice was that of liquid gold to Irene, which made her shiver in response, giving him a nodding sign of her succumbing to his command. Sherlock lifted her almost limp body wrapped in blue silk, and carried her to his bedroom, leaving his jacket and shirt next to the fireplace. Thankfully, she was light, so carrying her to their destination took a mere five seconds.

When they got to the bedroom, Irene noticed it was exactly the same as she last seen it. 'Some things never change, do they?' - Irene thought to herself.

With one fluid motion, Sherlock deposited the Woman onto the bed, and laid himself on top of her, eyeing her, waiting for her to respond in some way. Irene grabbed Sherlock by the neck and pulled him to her mouth. He straight away responded, kissing her back, his tongue feeling hers, swirling its way round her. His hands were either her head, with his legs also on either side of hers, embracing his dominance of her delicate figure.

"Do I have your permission to continue…?" Irene breathed out, and she admits to herself, she was rather nervous and excited about this, because she knew she is about to take away something from Sherlock that he openly values, from what she has seen. She is also aware that he has virtually not much experience.

"How much…experience do you have?" She asked, ensuring on how easy she should go on him.

"Janine has taught me the basics of foreplay…" Sherlock muttered under his breath, now focusing on her neck, gently nibbling and biting it.

"Don't worry…let me guide you…" Irene whispered into his ear, with hands exploring his broad and strong shoulders, and then going on his back, feeling the smooth pale skin of the detective.

Her hands instinctively went to his zipper, while Sherlock continued to play with her neck, and his hands slowly stroking the silky material covering The Woman's petite body. Irene gave a smirk as she took one of his hands quickly and guided it to the knot, in which he responded back by undoing it slowly, but with slight excitement, while Irene was busy with the zipper, which she slowly started to undo.

Sherlock opened the dressing gown, revealing the chest and breasts of the dominatrix. Irene hissed at the sudden cold sensation, making her get Goosebumps. Sherlock's tongue left Irene's neck, and his hot breath slowly went lower and lower, to her collarbone. Irene finally got the zipper low enough for Sherlock to take them off with one fluid motion, leaving only in his undergarments.

Irene's need for Sherlock to be inside of hr grew stronger, as he then started to explore his mouth over her warm breasts, while Irene could do nothing but raise her upper body in pleasure, gasping for air. Smirking, the detective took a gentle bite to one of her bosoms, all while Irene grabbed one of his busy hands, and guided it to her lower abdomen, giving him a sign of her want for him to perhaps 'play' with her.

Sherlock gave her a puzzled look, as if maybe perhaps to try and fool her. But Irene only smiled more, with Sherlock not being able to withstand his desires any longer, allowing his fingers went even closer to her now very wet centre. Suddenly, Irene felt Sherlock's hot and wet lips invade hers, passionately roaming, as she kissed back, she felt a jolt of electricity as she felt one of his fingers slide into her.

"Oh, perhaps you don't need as much guidance as I thought you would need" she managed to mouth out between their kiss, and as Sherlock gave her a teasing smile, he slid another finger inside, making her wet centre pulsate more, while her hands wandered themselves to his aroused length, and subtly tugging at the lining of his boxers. But before she could go any further, she breathed out his name, as he slid a third finger, and started to side them in and out, slowly at first, but increasing their pace as she whispered his name again and again.

"Oh, I thought I was the only one who was immune..." Sherlock said with a cheeky grin, and to Irene's surprise, managed to fluently take off his undergarments. A rush of thunder can be heard from outside, exciting both of the lovers. Another passionate kiss took hold of both of them, and as Sherlock increased his face with one final effort, Irene whimpered out his name, as she came. Sherlock slid his fingers out and grabbed her by the waist, making them both sit up and face each other, their hot breaths inches away from each other. Irene wrapped her legs around his waist, and Sherlock gave her a longing look, as though asking her permission to be inside of her.

Irene gave him a nod, and before she could say more, Sherlock gently slid his length into her throbbing centre, as The Woman grabbed Sherlock by his hair, pulling at it hard. The detective arched his head backwards and whispered her name in sheer pleasure, while his hands now exploring her chest, running up and down her ribs and then her chest bone.

Irene also arched her head back, allowing Sherlock to start kissing her neck, while slowly thrusting into her back and forth, all while Irene getting her fingers tangled in his ebony curls while his mouth continued to explore her marble skin. Irene never knew that Sherlock could be this...vulnerable. Never in her life that who seemed to be a man so unattainable by others, could slip into Irene's mindset so fast. It was hard to believe that this man was innocent a few minutes ago, who now is not a virgin anymore. Well, maybe to the newspapers he wasn't a virgin for a while, but like Moriarty once said, the media are in fact, nothing more than fairytales.

Sherlock's weight started to increasingly rest on Irene's letting him be on top again, still inside her, and increasing his pace more. Irene's hands grabbed the sheets by instinct and pleasure, as Sherlock's pace was now in parallel with her pulse. He looked down at her to absorb her beauty, her passion, but also her delicacy. 'Ironic for a dominatrix to succumb to his affections so easily' – he thought to himself.

Irene looked into Sherlock's eyes between thrusts, and saw that those weren't the eyes of a detective anymore. They were the eyes of a man, who is vulnerable, gentle, and one who is a bit more complicated than the rest.

Sherlock's thrust started to engulf Irene, sending her mind to a sky-high feeling of glee, as he passionately kissed her, until her lips were swollen and bruised. She immediately kissed him back, with one hand exploring his back, the other tugging at his locks.

And with one final thrust, he screamed out "Irene!", as he collapsed on top of her, burrowing his head onto her shoulder, smelling the scent of the shampoo in her hair, as it was still damp. The dominatrix was no longer in dominance, as she was happy to be dominant to Sherlock, happily smiling to herself. She kissed his shoulder, while Sherlock was catching his breath, with a hint of growling with his baritone voice. Irene shivered again, in response to his beautiful deep voice ringing into her ear.

Sherlock lifted his head, and gently kissed Irene on the lips, as she rubbed the back of his scalp, delicately stroking it and digging her nails into it, massaging it. They both knew that they will spend this cold and stormy night together, so Irene bought the covers to engulf them both in them, falling asleep in each others' arms.


	4. Chapter 4

He rubs his eyes and yawns when he sees Irene beside him. He's confused at first, but as memories from the previous night come back to his mind, he smiles. He turns his head to watch the woman next to him, taking in her features and admiring her beauty. If this had have happened 3 years ago, he would have thought that it was utterly impossible and absurd to caress the small, fragile body of the woman in his arms but that is exactly what he's doing right now.  
He had always been so proud and obsessed with 'winning' their game, but this is not a game anymore. The game is over… During his time as a 'dead' man, he learnt to embrace a side of him he had locked away a long time ago in a tiny corner of his heart: his emotions…sentiment.  
"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson's voice interrupts his thoughts, "There is a client for you!"  
Rolling his eyes, he yells back "Not interested!"  
"But this seems like an emergency, Sherlock!"  
"Still not interested!" He sighs. Actually he just doesn't want to leave his woman yet, he wants to enjoy her sleeping face a bit more, which is quite 'cute' as people call it: her smooth skin, and the faint smile on her lips when she's sleeping, she looks so…peaceful. Well that's quite a compliment for a woman who nearly brought a nation to her knees.  
"Sherlock! ….ouch! Bloody hips!", he hears Mrs. Hudson's climbing up the stairs and considering the noise of the footsteps there's someone with her…male, quite tall, probably about 1,80 m ..No…1,85m, judging by the noise of the shoes. Obviously!  
The footsteps are getting louder. The only thought which rushes through his mind is: 'Fuck! Mrs. Hudson will burst in here!' Slightly panicking Sherlock carefully removes his arms from the woman's body and jumped up, putting on some pants and his red dressing gown. He rushes to the door which is being opened slightly. 'Sherlock!' Quickly he grabs the doorknob to prevent the door to be opened further, and slips out of the room, closing the door quietly. He turned around to face his housekeeper (sorry landlady) and a tall man with dark, slightly curly hair wearing a long black coat. Sherlock gasped and was perplexed at first because holy shit that man was like a cheap copy of himself! Judging by his clothes he is pretty rich though.

Sherlock sits in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.  
"Mr. Holmes, you need to help me! My fiancée went missing yesterday! She's probably cheating on me!" the man seems to be quite desperate.  
Sherlock sighs and rolls his eyes: "Mr. Norton, please don't bother me with such a case, I'm not interested at all…"  
"Please Mr. Holmes…"

The sunlight tickles her face and a cool breeze blows through the open window. She shivers slightly, pulling the blanket around her for warmth and reaching out to hug her sleeping detective. When she flings her arm around the spot on which he fell asleep last night she couldn't feel him there.  
Irene's eyes flicker open, slightly disappointed that Sherlock isn't in the bed anymore. She sits up and rubs her tired eyes, glancing at the clock.  
8:55.  
In the last three years this might be the first time she had slept that long. Being 'dead' was kind of hectically, always on the run. There was no time for sleep.  
She cherishes these peaceful mornings, the sun rays waking her up instead of terrorists.

She closes her eyes again, remembering Karachi: the terrorists who tortured her for days, pain, despair, the wish for release and then finally the memory of Sherlock flashed through her inner eye. 'When I say run, run!', his words echoed through her head. She smiles.  
She remembers him carrying her to the safe house. No words were spoken that time, none were needed. Everything was said through affectionate touches and lingering eye contact.  
'But Mr. Holmes you need to help me please! I can offer you a substantial amount, money is not the problem.' a man's voice pulls her away from her thoughts.  
Frowning she puts on the blue dressing gown. That voice was kind of familiar and she feels the urge to walk out the bedroom to find out. Her memory isn't that bad but after last night everything's a blur. Too much adrenaline...she smirks.

The creaking of the door causes the man, who introduced himself as Godfrey Norton earlier, to look at it.  
"Ann", his mouth falls open.  
Sherlock furrows his brow, looking questionably at Irene, then it strikes him like lightning: 'Oh yeah, that might be her alias...But for what?'  
"Godfrey!" her throat is dry, she can barely speak.  
The man tries to stand up and approach her, stumbling. His hands are shaking, his breathing uneven, little sweat beads roll down his forehead. It takes him a minute to calm down, steadying his breathing, when he slowly turns his head to Sherlock. His eyes glow of anger and fury. Sherlock just stands there observing him calmly, concentrating on his movements but makes a mistake by looking to Irene to receive an explanation. Godfrey uses those little seconds to jump at him, tackling him to ground! He takes a swing and punches him in the face. In return Sherlock tries to avoid the blows. One hit strikes his lips. His upper lip bursts open and blood drips down his mouth.  
"WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT THAT YOU WERE THE PERSON MY FIANCEE IS CHEATING ON ME WITH?! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Wrestling for dominance both men weren't willing to give up. Irene just stares, unable to move when a thunk wakes her up from her trance. She goes weak at the knees and she doesn't have any strength left to stand anymore, she hated herself for being so weak. 'Concentrate! You can make it!' She thinks to herself and slaps her face to enable her body to move, managing to approach both men. Putting her hand on her fiancé's shoulder, she yells desperately: "Please stop, Godfrey! You might kill him!"  
"Shut up, bitch!" he slapped her across her face using so much strength that she flew back and bumped into the desk. She knee-jerkily covers her cheek with her hands. The pain stings but she feels pain on another part of the body than her cheek, slowly feeling some liquid running down her forehead. Not till it drips down on the carpet that she realizes it was her blood! Sherlock flings his opponent and turns his head for a blink of an eye to look at her, his eyes clearly expressing concern and worry. The other man uses those reluctant seconds to start a counterattack, lifting his arm and aiming at his face with all his force but the detective could block the hit in the last moment. His eyes now show a different expression. They glowed in anger.

'How dare you...?!' Sherlock seems to have found a different source of power...the urge to protect the woman...HIS woman. He immediately knocked the other man out with a precise strike under his chin. Godfrey now lies on the floor, motionless.

She starts to cry. She doesn't even know why, maybe out of relief. Sherlock steps up to her, cupping her face, mumbling: "Are you alright?" She glances up and looks in his eyes: He looks concerned and his eyes are full of worry, he won't admit it though, he's Sherlock after all. She simply stares at him, not letting out a single word. Irene slowly puts her hand on his cheek, causing him to look at it. Then she brushed her lips onto his.

Even though he was caught in surprise, he doesn't shake her off, but gives in and kisses her back.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Jesus CHRIST, I am so so so sorry for the HUGE delay. I have had a massive depression fit, so I did not feel in the writing mood. Fortunately, my depression has subsided for now, so I wrote this bad boy. And to make up for the painfully long delay, I have made this chapter extra-long and extra-smutty. Jesus. I hope I didn't mess up. Anyway, enjoy, my lovelies!**_

Chapter 5

The slow drip of the kitchen tap echoed through Godfrey's ears as he opened his eyes slowly. With each muscle tensing in his eyelid, a burning sensation surged through his head. His head felt heavy, as he slowly lifted it up with all his effort. The first thing he noticed was he was in a sitting position, feeling tension around his wrists; he was tied to a chair. The heat from a lamp to his left was burning the hairs of his neck as he drew in a breath of air from the painful punch he felt earlier. God, today is not his day, he thought to himself. In front of him, a dark silhouette was hunched over the kitchen table. It was no-one else but Sherlock Holmes. The dripping tap was the only thing David could hear, but is soon replaced by the hum of his heart, as it started to increase its pace from the sheer fear that he suddenly felt. Sherlock could sure pack a punch, needed the circumstances.

"So, David. First Mary and now Irene. You people sure are funny, aren't they?" A low baritone voice broke the silence of the flat.

"Please, let me explain..." David tried to speak, trying to undo the knot on his wrists.

"Don't bother. If you know who I am, then you know that I know everything there is to know about you, Mr Godfrey. Your past sure is bleak. Pretty sure your future won't be so different." His tone darkened, as he slowly unfolded his arms and slowly paced closer to David. The prisoner did not look up at the detective, avoiding making himself feel even smaller than he already is. Sherlock was known to be arrogant, but his presence especially spoke of his authority over the closed walls of the flat. No wonder so many criminals take precautions these days, David thought to himself. He observed Sherlock getting himself a chair and placing it in front of Godfrey. He sat down, crossing his legs and folding his arms again. His pose was relaxed, his face expressionless but with a clenched jaw.

"So, David. What are you planning on doing next? Try and not lose Miss Adler, I presume? Maybe even hire another silly criminal 'mastermind' who thinks themselves worthy of my time?" Mr Holmes said with a deep breath, not moving an inch, his eyes completely focused on David.

"Please, Mr Holmes. Just let me go..." David managed to breathe out, giving up on his efforts of tying himself free. Even if he was successful in his attempts, he wouldn't stand a chance against the detective. His head was still dizzy from the punch, and he felt a black eye was going to be a result, as he felt an especially intense pain on his right temple and cheekbone.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr Godfrey. Letting you go is without a doubt an action I am willing to take, as long as you do me a small favour. If not, there will be some...let's say, severe consequences." Sherlock teasingly replied his gaze on Godfrey darkening, as he lowered his head and quietened his calm voice a little, turning it more sinister.

"Wh...What is it that you want from me...?" David nervously asked, feeling his hands trembling.

"Oh, nothing much. Just for you to leave Miss Adler alone. If you do not, I can assure you, Mr Godfrey, you will deeply regret it. Leave. Irene. Alone" Sherlock spoke with a hushed but murky tone with an intense glare.

David lowered his head even more in remorse. Well, it's a split, or risk himself getting killed one way or another. He knew that any person would succumb to try and live, and he was not on the contrary.

"Alright...Okay. I'll leave her, Mr Holmes. Just let me go." David's voice started to tremble, as he felt a drop of sweat snake its way down his neck caused by the lamp's intense heat. He forgot about the dripping tap, as he sees Sherlock get up from his chair and walk slowly to David. He stopped as he got behind David, untying David's hands. He slowly stood up, stroked his wrists, and rubbed his eyes with the back of his fists, trying to sustain himself from the urge to punch the detective directly in the face.

"I was right. You are definitely a psychopath..." David rumbled under his breath, his eyes glancing at Mr Holmes, his blood starting to boil and his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles started to go pale.

"High-functioning sociopath, with you number." Sherlock said teasingly, giving him that familiar grin, as he led Mr Godfrey to the door leading to Baker Street as he left without another word.

"So, you made him leave with a warning?" The dominatrix asked the detective, as she emerged from his room and leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, wearing his camel dressing gown.

"Maybe a little bit more than just a warning" Sherlock replied, as he put the two chairs back to their rightful place to avoid awkwardness.

"So, what do we do now?" Irene asked him with curiosity.

"We make sure you stay invisible, and dodge Mycroft's suspicion. I'll find you a good hotel to stay in, since you now have no reliable support anymore." Sherlock replied dryly to Irene.

Irene walked across the kitchen floors and stood in front of Sherlock, suddenly pulling at his lapels and kissing him passionately on the lips, her tongue slipping into his mouth. They both slowly pulled away from each other, as Irene slowly turned and went back into his room to get dressed, preparing her on a quest to search for a hotel.

It didn't take long for her to be informed that she will reside in the famous Ritz hotel, under a different name and profile, along with other tricks applied by Sherlock to ensure her anonymity. The both took a taxi to their destination, without saying a word to each other, both of them aware of being watched at all angles.

As they got to the hotel, already, women wearing their designer dressed and the men wearing their million pound watches emerged from the exit towards their exquisite vehicles. Irene blended in straight away along with Sherlock, which impressed him unsurprisingly. He knew her tricks, especially since she must be already used to the wealthy atmosphere, as she herself came from Belgravia anyway. The suite Irene was given was as stylish as it could get, with chandeliers in every room, including the bathroom. The bed was a super king size with five cushions neatly piled, and decorations ranging from yellows, oranges, reds and gold. How Sherlock got away with getting a place like this without Mycroft noticing was a mystery to Irene, and one she is willing to solve.

"How did you get a suite like this, dear?" The Woman asked, as she sat down on the side of the bed, observing Sherlock's observations of the suite.

"A case and a gamble I have won. The suite is permanently reserved to the now deceased person, whose name you now have. Don't worry. On paper, they're still alive. Even Mycroft is apparently convinced. " He replied quickly, now facing Irene. She slowly stood up and walked closer and closer to the raven-haired detective, not losing her gaze from him. His steely eyes bore into her, as she rose to her tiptoes to gently kiss him with gratitude. Not many people were this generous to her, especially as she is a professional woman. But especially not men like Sherlock.

Sherlock gently started to kiss her back, his hands travelling to her waist as he felt her hands go at his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue found their way into her mouth as he started to taste her, feeling her pull him towards the bed. He picked her up swiftly and carefully deposited her onto the sheets, his mouth not leaving hers for an instant. She lay underneath him as she started to undo the buttons of his light blue shirt while his large hands found their way through the fabric of her button -down shirt, untucking it from her skirt and then also undoing the buttons.

Irene let out a low moan as she felt his cool hands gently caress her breasts as she slowly let the cloth slide down his shoulders and arms, whilst Sherlock's lips left hers and they now worked their way down her temple, jaw line and neck. The Woman let out a hiss of pleasure and surprise as her hands stroked his back, making their way down and finding the zipper of his trousers. She felt Sherlock's lips twitch to a smile, letting her know that he is happy with her actions. Sherlock then tugged at the skirt, sliding it down her legs and chucking it on the floor, then noticing the now gone trousers.

The detective with one hand undid her bra, while his lips gently explored her torso, not missing a single inch of skin. She let out a gasp of hot air as she ran her hands through his scalp, rocking her head back in ecstasy, her hips gently grinding against his, signalling him her desire to become one with him again. As if that were his cue, he reached both hands and found her panty line, taking a few seconds to slide his finger along her sex over her lingerie knickers making her moan even louder, he began sliding them slowly down her legs until they were on the floor, joining the rest of Irene's clothing. Agreeing to play his little game, she let her hands travel down his body until they reached his boxers, sliding them off as well.

"Sherlock..." Irene breathed, moving her hands up into his hair again, tightening her hold, pulling him closer. She needed more skin contact, and arched into his hands kneading her breast. She moaned again, and pulled his head towards her to press her lips to his. This time they were fighting for dominance, their kissing bruising their lips. Her hands wrapped around his broad shoulders and held tightly to his muscled back, while Sherlock's arms held her waist once again. Irene panted as Sherlock lifted her up enough to wrap her legs around his waist.

"I need to be inside you," Sherlock growled, kissing her jaw line before coming back to her lips.

"I know, dear..."The Woman panted, and groaned as Sherlock's finger appeared between them, parting her slick heat and pushing a finger inside her. Irene gasped and rocked against him as he put a second finger inside. He nipped at her chin as he thrust his fingers hard inside her. He flicked one of his free fingers against her clit, and she felt a wave of pleasure about to sweep over her.

"Oh, Mister Holmes..." she whispered, pulling back to him.

Sherlock continued his movements inside of Irene, teasing. She was so close to coming, with her moans becoming louder and louder with every thrust of his delicate fingers. But before she could come, Sherlock slid out his fingers with a grin on his face, obviously doing that to tease her even further. Irene pulled his face and passionately kissed him, hungry for him to go deep inside her and for them to come together. With their hunger becoming almost unbearable, Sherlock then moved his hips against hers until his length slowly slid itself into her. A gasp of surprise left both of them, as Sherlock lifted his head and rocked it back, as Irene kissed and explored his neck and his apple.

With a single fluid motion, the detective began to slowly thrust into the dominatrix, increasing his pace with every push. Irene held onto his shoulders as he whispered her name over and over as their pleasure increased.

"I'm so close..."Sherlock managed to whisper into Irene's ear, as her nails dug into his shoulders so hard that he began to draw blood, but choosing to ignore it. His pace was now as fast as he could manage, as he finally let himself go and spill himself into her. Their gasps were in perfect harmony, as Sherlock leisurely rolled to the side, enveloping Irene in his arms.

"How often will you visit me...?" Irene asked him with a whisper.

"Whenever you need me," Mr Holmes replied with a smirk.

High heels clucked, breaking the silence between the solid walls of the government offices, as Anthea hurriedly made her way to Mycroft's, carrying various new surveillance files for him to look over.

She knocked the door and heard Mr Holmes with a 'come in' on the other end. She opened the door with her usual confidence.

"New surveillance files regarding Sherlock have arrived for you, sir," placing the reports onto the desk he was sitting behind.

"How recent are these?" He asked with his usual cool tone.

"A few hours old, sir." The brunette beauty replied, her hands behind her back.

"Good. My brother's movements over the past two days have been most...suspicious." he breathed out, opening the first folder


End file.
